Hands
by Shion-san
Summary: I sort of liked watching him for no real reason." Havoc's POV, some of the tenses might be messed up (sorry) was going to be a drabble, then ran off and got longer than any drabble should be. HavocFury


HANDS  
Havoc/Fury  
I (Shion-san)don't own FMA or it's characters. ... or the song "Walking on Sunshine"

I sort of liked watching him for no real reason. I probably could have been 40 percent more efficient if I wasn't always staring at him out of the corner of my eye. Eck, listen to me, I've been paying attention to Hawkeye's lectures too much again. Of course if I wasn't always staring at him I wouldn't get half as many lectures from her... but what's a guy to do? He's short, slender, definitely handsome, narrow, feminine shoulders, smooth beautiful skin, beautiful eyes, gorgeous hands that are quirked from their constant working, but slender fingers that I wish he would just sink into me...

"HAVOC!" A far too familiar woman's voice snapped, and I realized she'd been addressing me for a few seconds now. I turned my head to her, rolling the cigarette between my teeth. It wasn't lit, but the second my break hit it would be.

"First Lt. Hawkeye." I stood, saluting her.

"You're off early. Please walk Sg. Major Fury home, he's not feeling well." She ordered, and I nodded with a grin. Humming "Walking on Sunshine" I practically skipped over to Fury's desk, flopping my head on it to look up at him. He did look a bit green.

"Hey there. I hear you're sick." I commented. He pinked, nodding slightly. "Whelp, let's get you home then." I patted his back. He nodded again, standing. I put an arm over his shoulder, walking him to the dorms. He kept his glasses and nose to the ground, maybe just because he felt sick but probably because he was uncomfortable around me. I don't really know why, but with me he's worse than with everyone else. Maybe because I smoke...

which reminds me, I need to light up.

I stopped for a minute, Fury not taking more than one more step before turning to look up at me. I digged though my pockets, attempting to find a match, lighter, Mustang's gloves (like they would be in MY pocket. Ed's maybe, but not mine) or anything else I could use to set fire to the end of the cigarette. Suddenly I realized the fatal mistake I had made when jumping to walk Fury home: I left all my lighting equipment at my desk.

"Here." I blinked, looking at Fury who was offering me a lit match. I grinned, lowering my cigarette, and thus bending my entire upper body. I noticed the brightening of his cheeks as I put my hand over his two. I decided to hesitate a bit too long though, and we both wound up with slightly burnt before Fury dropped the match and yelped.

"Sorry." I jumped, sucking on the paper and grabbing his hands, looking at them. They were burnt alright, especially the thumb and forefinger that were holding the match initially. I looked at his hands for a lot longer than I thought, and the ash at the end of my cigarette wound up in them before I let them go, so he could yelp again about the hot ash and wave his hands wildly. I had to sigh; I'm not batting two, much less a thousand.

"Sorry." I repeated. Great, I'm ruining his perfect, wonderful, gorgeous hands. "Let's get you home before I set you on fire." I sighed, a huge drop of water hitting my shoulder. I held out my hand, catching another drop. "Rain." I huffed, puffing out smoke. Fury had begun to walk again, so I pulled off my jacket, slumping it over him then walking beside him. He blinked, and I swear I saw a small smile as he pulled the jacket over him better.

I didn't really regret giving it to him to keep his head try, but I sort of missed it, walking in my white t-shirt in the rain. But, sticking it up for the sake of Fury's... perfectness isn't a real word, is it? Aw, whatever. Him.

We made it to his dorm without further complication. When he noticed I was wet (it was raining Fury, you had my jacket, I got wet, it was inevitable) he insisted I come in and dry off. So, of course, I strolled into his place. I'd been there before, for some reason or another. It was five times tidier than any other dorm, despite the random unauthorized animal that graced it's floors. I stood in the doorway, the door closed behind me, waiting for Fury to return with a towel. I would have been uncomfortable, between being wet, smoking in Fury's dorm and waiting for Fury to come back, but his place had a feel that made it impossible to be uncomfortable.

He soon returned, taking my cigarette in exchange for a towel. Maybe that meant I could stay for awhile.

I dried off some, then kicked off my boots, pulled off my socks and walked into Fury's kitchen (where he had run off to) with the towel on my head. Fury was making tea.

"Hey, how're your hands?" I asked, getting him to jump. I guess I snuck up on him.

"Oh... they're fine." He replied quietly, putting the kettle over the stove. To make sure, I grabbed both his hands and looked them over, now that I didn't have anything that could burn them more.

They were callused, strong, long, his fingers slightly bent, the right ring finger more than the others, probably because he broke it a few months back. But in my hands, his seemed soft, gentle, perfect to the touch. His burns (which I finally got to looking at) seemed to be swelling a bit, so I dragged him into the bathroom and put his hands under cold water. He just kept his red cheeked head down.

I never really got why he always looked like that around me. Nerves, I guess.

After about three minutes I let him dry his hands off. Then I grabbed them again to stare at them intently. The swelling had gone way down, making his hands even better. They were still cold, which didn't feel quite right. I absent-mindedly put them to my cheeks, which were quite warm.

THAT got him looking at me. He stumbled forward a bit, throwing his head up, the bathroom light making it hard to see his gorgeous eyes behind his glasses. But I just kept my hands over his, and his on my cheeks. His cheeks were more fun to look at than mine, having done even darker red, his eyes stiff on mine. Stiff as in, he didn't look away; but he looked like he really, really wanted to. I grinned, and he looked more desperate, more red, more beautiful.

I felt like yammering about something; maybe his hands. But I just stood there, staring at him. He stared right back, nervously, cautiously, impatiently. I'm no genius, I'd run out of words in eight seconds when talking, but describing Fury... I could do that for years and years without stopping.

I might repeat a lot, but I could do it.

I could only half-see his brown eyes, but they were glimmering, like he was about to cry, but he didn't.

If he died right now, would he be a virgin? Would he have had a love, a life beyond the military? Was he involved, was he looking, was he afraid of contact? Was he afraid of me?

"M... my hands are warm now." He said in a small voice. So they were. But I wasn't ready to let them go. I wasn't ready to let him scamper out of the bathroom. I wasn't ready for anything yet.

"Yeah." Was all I said, keeping his hands on my cheeks. They were sort of rough and had sucked all of the heat from my cheeks. But they felt like butterflies had landed on my face and I was going to hold them there forever if I could. I was half-expecting him to tell me to let go of them, but he stayed quiet, staring up at me. It was sort of relieving, not being told to let go.

Then the damn kettle whistled. Fury broke eye contact with me, sliding his hands away and dashing to the kitchen.

"Don't burn yourself!" I yelled quickly, unthinkingly, after him. I could swear he laughed. I strolled from the bathroom after him, finding him in the kitchen pouring two mugs of tea.

"Sugar?" He asked, putting a few spoons of it into his own mug. I paused.

"Yes dear?" I wouldn't have thought of it if it weren't for the fact the girl who ran the shop I buy my cigarettes from always called her boyfriend sweet things, so I had to remember to thank her sometime. Fury went about the shade of radishes before they were boiled, freezing, mid-spooning, a few sugar grains shaking from the metal spoon, probably because he was shaking, trembling.

"D-do y-you w-want s-sugar in y-your t-t-tea...?" He asked, elaborating the previous question, but I decided to pretend it was continuing the conversation.

"Please, four spoonfuls. Let me help you, look at that, you're trembling." I grinned, batting my eyes and taking his hand, dumping the rest of the sugar from the spoon into Fury's mug before scooping more sugar from the bowl and moving it to my mug. I stood behind him, my breath on his neck, humming slightly, operating his shaking hand. When four spoons of sugar had gotten into my mug I used the spoon to stir it around, then to stir his. He was still shaking when the spoon emerged from his tea, and when I put the spoon in my mouth, my hand still on his, his still on the spoon's handle, he looked close to fainting.

"There we are." I smirked, pulling his hand away, the spoon coming from my mouth. I was done sounding like a girl. "I'm going to use your toilet real quick." I announced, heading back to the bathroom. Before I closed the door to the bathroom, I glanced at Fury in the mirror. I expected him to be bustling to get the mugs to the table, but he still stood staring at the spoon in his hand.

Then he giggled, thinking I was in the bathroom, and biting on the spoon. I blinked.

Emptying my bladder at mach 8 and returning to the kitchen, Fury still had the spoon in his mouth. I grinned, taking it from him.

Now if I thought he was red BEFORE... he was REDDER now. I put the spoon on the counter, leaning forward, taking his lips on mine.

I pulled back, looking at him.

"Get in bed, Hawkeye said you were sick." I ordered. He blinked.

"I'm fine... now." He said, then blushed more. I grinned, pulling him into a hug. I couldn't help but glow when his callused, slender fingers sunk into my skin, pressing against my back, which was still a little damp. The towel was still on my head, but it fell onto him when I decided to kiss him again. And again. And again.

a/n: was going to be a drabble. Got carried away.


End file.
